Layover

After a delightful week on the beach with good friends, I headed back to San Francisco for two days before heading to Europe. Two days is not very much time to do much of anything except a long list of errands. However, staying any longer would have meant either a later return home in August or a shorter stay in Europe, and a more expensive plane ticket. So two days it is.

I realize now just how spoiled I am with what I consider necessities. Not that I am carrying very much with me, but certain things like having my brand of toothpaste and deodorant (Tom´s of Maine), certain vitamin supplements, a new pair of jeans, flip flops, etc. These are all items that, for some reason, I thought I could find in any decent sized city. I couldn't find any of them in Argentina and now I am not so sure about Europe either. So now is my chance to shop till I drop, and load up on goodies.

My most prized item to pick up is my Macbook. Since I chose not to bring it along to any beaches or developing countries, I have been relegated to Internet cafes for quite some time. I plan to try and be productive over the next two months, getting myself geared up again for work, diving back into some hobby projects, and finally having access to some new music again.

I also got a recharge on face time with loved ones back home. It wasn't much time, but it did mean a lot to me to see some of my favorite faces and to remember what makes home so special.

Tomorrow I will begin my twenty nine hour door to door journey to Berlin starting at 5 am and culminating at the main Berlin train station at 6 pm the next day.

Deep breath.

Conned

I had a very strange experience back in Guatemala that I refrained from writing about until I had a better idea of what actually happened.

One day back in April, I had been trying to make a number of airplane reservations online. After two successful payments, my Visa company got spooked and put a hold on my card, so I was unable to finish the rest of them. I sent an email to my issuing bank and gave up for the day.

I went to a local bar to return my friend's laptop that I had borrowed. She and some other friends were there and were talking to a fellow I hadn't met. I gave the folks at the table my sob story about the airline flights and credit card problems.

Coincidentally, the new fellow, named Darius, had an airline story to tell as well. He said that he flies around the world a lot for work and has accumulated over two million frequent flier miles that will soon be expiring. He said he couldn't possibly use them all before they expire, so his intention was to give them away to anyone that wants to fly somewhere. He said he didn't want anything in return. He just didn't want to see them go to waste especially if they could benefit others.

The something-for-nothing red flag went up in my head. I am quite a skeptical sort, so although I wanted to believe he was for real, I was definitely crinkling my nose about it. I had plans that night so I couldn't stay and chat about it, but he suggested we meet up the next day and he could hook me up.

That night, some of us discussed what could be up with this guy. We smelled a scam, but the guy didn't seem to want anything. He said that he would purchase the tickets for us, so I thought maybe he is collecting private info like passport numbers. Who knows. But at the same time, someone was offering me a free flight, so I planned to follow along with it until he requested something I wasn't comfortable with. Then I would drop out.

The next day, I opened a One World frequent flier account through American Airlines since he mentioned his miles were with that group. I figured I would ask him to transfer some miles to me online rather than buying a ticket and see what he says. I also happened to have a friend who was out of money and desperately needed to return to the States, so I let her know when I was meeting him so she could potentially benefit.

I met him at Zoola, a pleasant restaurant and hangout spot, operated and frequented by Israelis. He said that he had just finished arranging for a ticket for another friend of ours and to just let him know where and when I wanted to go and he would arrange it. His manner made it seem just so easy and plausible. I still wasn't sure about the guy. But I felt more comfortable about the situation. He said he didn't want any personal information. Only a first and last name to list as the passenger name. He seemed concerned that somehow having personal information would be a bad idea for him and the people he was helping.

I asked about transferring miles and he said it was a big hassle to do because the miles were all tied up with his company, a big New York investment company. He said that he was very good with math and that's why he had this important seeming job. His story made a lot of sense. He said that he didn't know his flier miles belonged to him and had been accruing them for years. He had just become aware of this huge balance of points when someone from the company contacted him to let him know many of them would expire soon. He said he was having trouble giving them away because people were creeped out by the idea of taking something so valuable from him. There must be a catch. I decided to keep playing along.

The friend I brought along, however, seemed to get spooked and decided not to go with us to the Internet Cafe to purchase the ticket. He seemed really confused about it and annoyed that he had to try so hard to give stuff away.

Before we left Zoola, a group of Israeli travelers began to give Darius a hard time. He wore a star of David as a necklace. And I suppose when he didn't speak any Hebrew, they naturally asked him where he was from. He said he was from Beiruit, born to an Arab father and a Jewish mother. The Israelis would not let this claim stand. They could not fathom this and continued to pummel him with questions about his upbringing. After awhile it became somewhat heated and he got frustrated so we left.

When we got to the Internet place, he brought up some airline screens where he listed out ticket possibilities for me to get from San Francisco to Frankfurt and back. He said the points he had were only good for first class, so like it or not, I would have to fly first class. Shame.

We picked a set of flights which totaled about $7800 retail. He said he was sending the info to the company travel agent and that I should get a confirmation. He said it sometimes takes a few minutes and sometimes takes a couple of days. I gave him my email address although he didn't seem to want it, so that this person could forward the confirmation directly to me.

That was that.

At this point, I still wasn't convinced. I also didn't feel super comfortable with the idea of this guy having any type of change or cancellation control over my trip to Europe. But at this point, he still has not asked me for a thing. He is seeming more and more legit all the time. So I am pretty happy now, hoping to soon get a confirmation for a free first class flight to Germany.

He hung out with my group of friends that night and continued to offer these tickets. He also made some other strange claims though. He said he could count cards. No doubt part of his math genius tool set. He claimed he could keep track of six decks of cards during black jack and would play folks at the bar. It is a tough claim to verify since counting cards only gives you a slight advantage. You still lose sometimes. But ok. He can count cards. Great.

He didn't play for money. He didn't ask anyone for anything. In fact, he bought a couple rounds of drinks as I remember.

One observation my Israeli friend made was that, for a man with such a well paid job, his star of David necklace was obviously cheap. She thought that was strange.

So, as you might imagine, I was eager to check my email to see about a confirmation of the flight. He had said he spoke with the travel agent and everything was a go. But each time I checked, no confirmation.

A couple of days passed. I hadn't seen him around town. Neither had others.

He had arranged for three different people in town. After all the offering he was doing, only three of us followed through with him. One of the others actually had a phone number for him and called him up. He answered and said his travel agent had called and was concerned with all of the different names he was buying tickets for, but that he explained and everything was fine again. Just be patient.

The other person was a girl who by now was pretty creeped out by the guy. He had been hitting on her pretty relentlessly even though she told him she had a boyfriend in the next town. A true fact. But he continued to pester her with phone calls and visits. Nothing too outrageous though.

After three days or so, I was pretty well convinced that I would never receive a confirmation. We could not for the life of us, however, figure out why he did this. We had some theories: For attention, compulsive liar, maybe a gift that might be cashed in later for some kind of favor, or just enjoys messing with people's heads.

He did borrow money from one person that probably was never returned. But it was not very much. Not enough to warrant all of the energy required to put so many people on.

My main problem at this point was: I need a ticket to Europe. If I buy a ticket now and the confirmation actually shows up, I will have wasted my money. But the longer I wait, the more expensive the ticket may get. After about five or six days, I was satisfied and purchased my ticket.

We all talked about it for days, just boggled at who this guy was and why he did this. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never find out any more about the guy.

But then I did.

Last week, a couple of folks from San Pedro emailed me to announce that at least some of the mystery was solved.

Darius was not his real name. His real name is Simon Gann and he is a true blue con man. He also has an identical twin brother named Jordan who was just sentenced to prison for his cons. Simon is wanted in Massachusetts and several other authorities are investigating him.

As to what his motives or intentions were with this frequent flier deal.... I still don't really know. The "con" in con man is short for confidence. Con men build confidence and trust in their victims before abusing that trust later on somehow, usually leaving the victim lighter in the wallet. It is possible the behaviour is just compulsive. He can't stop lying and making up stories. Or maybe there really was more in store for us. I would like to think that I would have been smart enough to pull away from him if his story started to change. But who knows? These guys are pros... and I am just trusting, albeit skeptical, soul.

Surfing

For a couple of days I have been waiting for the right opportunity to take a surfing lesson. Every now and then I go to one of the shady tents where the surfers (aka instructors) hang out and ask them when a good time for a lesson might be.

Surprisingly, rather than sell me any old time slot, they seem legitimately concerned that I have a good time, so they continue to council me to be patient and wait for better conditions.

Since there isn't much to do in Sayulita but eat delicious food, sleep, and surf, I spent a fair amount of time out on the beach. I noticed one particular instructor seemed to be especially enthusiastic about teaching so I decided he was my best bet.

Like the others, he preached patience. He suggested we meet the next morning before the waves got too crowded with others. When I met him the next day, he looked out at the surf and pushed the lesson out another hour and a half so the waves would be breaking in the right spot. An hour and a half later, he pushed it another thirty minutes. Then, finally, the gods whispered to him that it was time, and he pulled a Norwegian guy and me down to the water line.

He taught us how to position ourselves on the board to paddle out, some general surfing etiquette, and then finally how to hop up on the board and the proper stance once upright. That was really it. Not much to the lesson. But then he swam out with us to the spot where folks were waiting for waves and then, as a wave would come, would yell "Paddle! Paddle! Paddle! Jump up!", then he'd give the board an extra push, and just like that, I was up and surfing on the very first try.

Since I am a snowboarder, the general balance and sensation of riding was not new to me, so I was surprised how easy it really was once one catches a wave. As it turns out, paddling around is much more challenging than riding a wave. I knew that paddling around required a lot of back and shoulder strength. You can tell by the tell tale muscle tone on most surfers. But I wasn't prepared for the neck strength it took just to keep my chin off the board, so as not to swallow tons of sea water. The proper posture is to have your shoulders and head well above the board while resting on your rib cage. Try staying in that position on and off for an hour. That turned out to be even tougher than the paddling part.

Armed with new confidence in my shredding skills, I rented a board the next day with Michael, who has done a little surfing, and we headed out for the waves... slightly bigger than the day before. As it turns out, having a dude in the water yelling "Paddle! Paddle!" and pushing your board for you is more useful than I thought. Choosing waves to paddle on was a challenge. Besides judging which ones I might catch, I was also preoccupied with not getting run over by other surfers, and so I had a hard time catching many at all.

All in all though, I consider the adventure a success. I don't think I will become an addict anytime soon. Running out to chilly Ocean Beach at 6 am before work still doesn't really appeal to me. But I will try it again next time I have more friendly 85 degree water to play in.

After a delightful week of beach bumming, I am off to San Francisco for a two day layover before heading off to Germany. I am creating an extensive shopping list of items to recharge mt backpack for the final two months of my trip.

Bye bye beach.

Sayulita

After about twenty hours of travel, I made it to Puerto Vallarta airport just about an hour before my good friends Shannon and Michael arrived from San Francisco. I immediately needed to shed my jeans and shoes for I am now highly aware of being in a new tropical zone of the planet. My hair went from merely wavy, to full afro in about twenty minutes. I was concerned the weather would be oppressively hot way down here below the southern tip of Baja California. But the cool Pacific breeze keeps the weather perfect all day and night.

They had arranged with Marc, a friend from home, to stay on his boat which is stored here at a nearby marina. Some friends of Marc's immediately greeted us at his boat and we had an immediate welcoming committee. Cruisers are similar to backpackers ad RV folks, in that they provide a friendly, helpful community at any marina around the world. These folks were no different.

The next day we headed for Sayulita beach, a small surfing town just north of PV. Within an hour or so, Shannon used her signature mixture of luck and sociability to secure us the guesthouse of a local beachfront business owner for less than the price of a normal hotel room. She really is a secret weapon. The place is the upstairs floor of a building overlooking the water with beds both inside and outside on the large deck, complete with puffy chairs and a hammock.

I didn't do much research about this beach before I arrived. I was mainly excited to see my friends and hang out at the beach. But I became immediately aware that this is a popular beach to learn how to surf. The waves are small but constant and the water nice and warm. Teachers and rental shops line the beach.

On Wednesday I thought I might like to take a lesson while I am here, so I asked at one of the tents along the beach. He says it is $30 US for an hour of training and would I like to get started right now. I tell him that today I am just chilling, swimming, and reading, but tomorrow I will probably hit him up.

The next day when I went out to find the guy, I realized there really weren't any waves out on the water. The teacher confirmed that it was now, indeed, a poor time to try and learn. I guess that was my first lesson of surfing. If the waves look good now, go.

Duh.

Fútbol

After a delightful week in Córdoba, I began my journey back toward the northern hemisphere by returning to Buenos Aires the day before I fly out and head to Mexico.

But what should I do with my one day back in the capital city? I have seen everything I really cared to see during my three weeks I already spent here... except one thing. A fútbol game. Since I am not much of a sports fan, I had never motivated to see a game while I was here, but I regretted that after leaving. I have heard that seeing a game here is quite an experience.

Soccer is deeply ingrained in the everyday life of Argentines. On days of games, you will pass one storefront after another with a television surrounded by patrons.. people on the sidewalk watching through the window outside.. people surrounding magazine stands, and parillas.. all fixated on every moment of the game. They don't just have a national team, or teams representing each city. They have a team for individual neighborhoods. I am not certain of the actual number, but I think Buenos Aires has about fifteen proper large fútbol arenas just in this city. The fans of each team are, true to the term, fanatics. The are extremely loyal and go to great lengths to show their support.

When I arrived early in the morning and checked into the hostel, I noticed they had a sign up sheet for that day. A guided trip to a game.. Boca vs. Vélez. Transportation, local guides to keep us from touristing ourselves into trouble, and a ticket. No excuse. I must go.

They took us to the arena quite early. Eventually I realized this is so that we get good seats. Although our tickets had assigned section and seat numbers, no one seemed to heed these. The bleachers began to fill up quickly just after we arrived and became tough to find many seats together. We got there early enough to get seats underneath the upper deck. Apparently people sometimes throw things from up there (or worse), so getting seats protected from the mayhem is part of the wisdom we paid the guides for.

At least an hour before the game started, the fan sections at either end of the stadium began to show impressive life. Little by little the fans spread out their colorful banners, handed out colored doohickies to wave around in the air non stop.. a marching band showed up on both sides.. colored smoke machines began to waft their colors into the air... and then the singing started.

Each team has a set of songs that are something like war chants only more melodic. They are loud, repetitive, and come with waving arms, hopping up and down in sync, and taunts to the other side. Occasionally, the chants from the super fan area would inspire the more relaxed areas of the stadium into the chants and waves. At these times we could really feel the emotion, and see it... and hear it. The intensity I could see in porteños in everyday life got turned up to eleven. Holy cow. The loud chants and songs did not stop. Ever. The fans were always loud, always hopping, always waving their arms for the entire duration of the game, not to mention the hour before the game. I was certain they would poop out eventually. They didn't. That's loyalty.

Soccer games, luckily, are fun to watch. I enjoy basketball back home, and these games have the same constant energy and team play, so I was fairly riveted. The game ended in a tie, 1 to 1. This was actually good for our personal safety, I was told. The fans exit the arena at different times. The visiting fans leave first. Only after they are completely gone, the remainder of the spectators may exit. This is to avoid the inevitable fights that will occur between opposing fans. Apparently, if the final score favors one team too much, the taunting afterword can make for some after game mayhem, even with the sequestering measures in place.

So after an adventurous night of sports, I returned with our group to the hostel. Since May 25th is Argenina's independence day, the hostel celebrated by providing a complementary locro dinner. Not bad.

So now I am heading back to the northern hemisphere. I will fly to Mexico and head to Sayulita beach to reunite with my lovely friends Shannon and Michael from back home.

But first I have one final errand. I must find a specific brand of dulce de leche to bring to Germany. I have been promised an apartment for a few days in Berlin belonging to a friend of a friend. The part-Argentine resident has a craving, and is willing to swap accommodations for sweets.

Onward!

Cordoba

By the time my two week lease at my Palermo apartment was up, I was quite ready to see some different parts of the area. I had a few options, and had a tough time making a decision where to go even up to the last day.

I could have gone to Iguazu Falls which I hear is quite a sight to see, but it is a 20 hour bus ride. Even if I take the overnight bus and sleep for eight hours, I would still have twelve more to sit through.... for a waterfall. I would also love to see the glaciers in Patagonia, but it is winter and that is some pretty serious territory. That was tempting still, but also quite an expensive flight or a long bus ride. Both places were sort of like saying "Well as long as I am in San Diego, I may as well visit Seattle since I am right there". Too far. I just want a leisurely road trip out of town. Someplace friendly, with some nice nature and some history to explore.

I chose Cordoba, a college town about a ten hour drive from Buenos Aires. It is such a little blip on the map between other points of interest that for some reason I pictured a little village like Truckee or Flagstaff. Not so much. Cordoba is about 30% larger in population than San Francisco... over a million residents. A real city to be sure.

But a more intimate city than Buenos Aires. The city moves at a friendlier pace and is far easier to walk around without taking Advil for my aching ankles like in BA.

I arrived after an overnight 10 hour journey from the BA bus station. Bus stations in Argentina are nothing like I have ever seen. They are approaching airports in their size and level of organization. The buses are generally quite luxurious. I bought a "Cama" seat which looks something like a super first class airline seat... leather, big and puffy, and they recline into an almost horizontal position... perfect for snoozing for a few hours of my ten hour journey.

Unfortunately, because of my apartment check out time and the bus schedule, I arrived to Cordoba at 5:50 in the morning to a completely dark and foreign city.

I had the address of the Tango Hostel and took a taxi... but felt like a creep ringing the bell that early in the morning. I shoudn`t have. The hostel is a friendly, youthful, communal living type place where people cook and eat meals together, explore the area together, and go out at night together. It is not uncommon for people to buzz into the place at that time of the morning after a night out. Exactly the type of situation I needed in Buenos Aires. But I am happy to have it now... and suspected towns outside of BA would be more like this.

Cordoba also happens to be the town where Che Guevara went to high school. He grew up as a boy about an hour southwest in Alta Gracia and his home is now a museum. Some folks from the hostel and I took a quick $1 bus ride up there and checked out his house, took pictures with his famous motorcycle, and tooled around the cute little town.

I hadn`t had much in the way of recommendations from friends about Cordoba, but I am glad I made the trip up. It gives one a far different impression of Argentina and it`s folk than just getting to see the big city. I may see one or two more towns before heading back up to Mexico.

Talk

Talk is cheap.

Especially on the Internet. Although I have been a high tech professional for a number of years, I still sometimes find myself a very late adopter of new technology. This week I got my first real introduction to Skype. I had it before on my Mac back home and I have chatted online with it a bit, but never really dug into it as a way to make phone calls.

But now as a lowly foreigner stuck in a metropolitan area with no cell phone, Skype means a whole lot more to me. I have seen folks using it in Internet cafes while I have been on the road. I knew it was there, but didn´t feel particularly inclined to slide myself under the web of cords and microphones and headphones and monkey around with all that high tech nonsense. I have been perfectly satisfied with email and chat.

But this week I had a couple of instances where I really needed a phone but didn't have one. One was to call a guy I met who gave me his Argentine cell phone number. I couldn't get Skype to dial the number so I probably won't see that dude again unless I borrow a real phone from someone. So that was strike one for Skype.

But it really saved me today when I had to, after an extended procrastination, call AT&T to deal with my cell phone problems from back home. Remember that my phone was stolen back in Guatemala and, although I was able to suspend the account from the web, I was not able to make an insurance claim to get the phone replaced. They only have a phone number. I also wanted to strip down my service plan to make it cheaper (since I can't use it anyway) but since I had suspended the service online, they required me to call in order to make changes. On what phone!

I had one of those $4 per month things on my account so if the phone is lost or stolen, they will send me a new one. So I had to call them on two different phone numbers in order to downgrade my plan, and to make my insurance claim. I knew these calls would suck and would take forever.
I was right.

But thanks to Skype, which, after sliding under the web of cords, allows you to make phone calls for free from anywhere to U.S. toll free numbers, it didn´t cost me an arm and a leg, and I was able to surf the web while I toiled on the "phone".

AT&T on the other hand, totally screwed me. I was already really pissed about the fact they wouldn't just let me park my cell phone number for a few dollars a month and let me pick it up again when I come back home. Nope, they made me pay for a whole calling plan, the cheapest of which came out to about $60 per month with taxes and insurance attached. This for a phone I am not using at all.

Then after some more chat, I realized that I actually had a $50 deductible on the phone which I would have to pay in order to have a new one sent to me. Great.

So after going around and around with them about how I might reduce my monthly bill, I finally suggested to them, while reading their own website during the conversation, that I change my account to a pre-paid account which is a ridiculous, usurious per minute fee, but no monthly fee at all. But I am not using the phone so the crazy per minute fees don't matter. Then when I get back home, I will start a new contract with some company to be determined at that time (AT&T may be considered) and receive a brand new phone for free. No $50 needed. And I will get to keep my phone number.

Thank you Skype for making the call easy... and no thanks to AT&T, who´s best suggestion was for me to pay $230 over the next three months for a phone and account I cannot use. Now I am paying nothing and get to keep my number.

Now back to traveling.